“What? Do I have toothpaste on my face or something?” I ask anxiously, reaching to feel around my mouth for mischievous escapee blobs of dried toothpaste, paranoid after the last time this happened.
“No! No! Come … Sit!” beckons Mollie with a manicured hand. Her dark brown hair and beetle back eyes glinting under brown eye shadow and thick mascara. Her Mexican blood runs strongly through her as is evident from her beautifully tanned skin and lustrous dark locks. I do as I’m told and they all turn to face me. Chloe’s platinum blonde locks frame her face while Manda’s red froth of hair bounces around her shoulders and her green eyes catch the sun with the excitement of whatever they’re so happy about.
“What gives? What’s going on?” I ask curiously, hoping their excitement is not because of something banal like, for example, a cute boy being transferred into our class from Central Florida again.
“We …” Chloe looks at the other girls and raises her eyebrows, “have a surprise for you, birthday girl!” She flashes me an eye watering smile. Chloe, the oldest of our group, has dentists for parents, and has inherited nothing but the best in the looks department. I often think that she could probably stand in the middle of a busy intersection, smile, and stop traffic. Her eyes are a beautiful sea green and her skin a tan olive. She is the kind of girl you assume has no common sense, but she is actually very intelligent and will be going on to medical school after graduation. I sigh and realise that I have been lucky to evade the birthday radar for so long; it was only a matter of time before one of them did some research and discovered it lies on the 25th of April, which as of today, is tomorrow.
I look up at them in anticipation of what they will say next. But it is as though someone with far more power than I wants to draw out my curiosity even further, as the bell drones through the air and Mrs. Sanchez walks in for roll call.
I have to wait until lunch to discover what they were all so excited about, but when I hear I’m instantly filled with worry about what my mom, or rather the Carl shaped beast controlling her, will say.
“We are throwing you, like, a crazy party!” Mollie bursts, her round face smiling enthusiastically with excitement.
“Crazy?” I question, cocking my head to one side.
“Yes! Just us … but with, like, a wicked cool location!” says Manda, her enthusiasm coupled with her frizz of red hair makes her seem a little mad.
“No one says wicked cool anymore, Manda! Don’t you know that?” mutters Chloe, smiling absent-mindedly while inspecting her perfectly manicured nails.
“Oh right … totally awesome?” Manda questions and Chloe nods her platinum blonde head with approval. “Totally awesome location!” she corrects, staring at me with wide green eyes.
“So where is it?” I enquire with a knot in my stomach hoping it does not involve alcohol or a fake ID.
“That would be telling!” Mollie says leaning into me and bumping my shoulder while stroking the side of her nose slyly. This is good, I think to myself, what I don’t know can’t come to bite me in the ass when it comes to my stepfather.
“So what should I tell the troll?” I ask the group as they lean in, in the way only a tight knit group of friends can. They all smile having a clear understanding of to whom I am referring.
“Just tell your mom you are staying over at my place for a sleepover. My older sister will cover for us,” Mollie assures me. This gives me confidence, because for some reason, God knows why, Carl seems to like Mollie more than most people. Whether it be because of her easy charm and attractive laugh, or because she seems to be carefree even during final exams, I will never know. I do know, however, that this works in my favour. I look around at my friends and smile.
“Thanks guys!” I gush, breaking the silence that was filled with the anticipation of my reaction to their plan. I change the subject not wanting to talk about my birthday anymore.
“I gave Daryl the speech this morning,” I tell them as they listen intently. Mollie puts her hand on mine and sighs.
“Oh honey … was it, like, awful?” she asks, looking more upset about it than I am about the whole situation.
“Nah, it was okay. He still won’t listen when I tell him I’m not interested, so I’m sure I will have to listen to many more uncomfortable ‘Will you go to prom with me’s.” I exhale and feel my curls tickling my ears in the way they always do when I’m stressed.
“Well you can let him know that if he ever needs a shoulder to cry on I’m, like, here … and I have shoulders.” Mollie giggles and looks at me in the way we do as best friends. Chloe leans forward and places her chin in her long fingers.
“He is rather yummy.” I can almost see her mentally undressing him. “Why are you turning him down again, Callie? Isn’t he like … most definitely going to be a super-rich Charger quarterback in just a few short years?” she asks looking accusatory.
“I just don’t like him that way …” I begin.
“You don’t really like ANYONE that way,” she observes acutely. Not much gets past Chloe unfortunately.
Chloe is one of those people who as well as holding a perfect GPA is highly opinionated. She has a heart of gold, and I know she would do anything for me if I asked, but you don’t disagree with Chloe. Mollie and I look at one another covertly in acknowledgement of this fact.
“Yeah Callie … do you like anyone at this school?” Manda asks, joining the Chloe bandwagon in the ‘Let’s get super personal and nosey in Callie’s life’ parade.
“Look, I like guys … just not anyone from this school; they’re all too … immature,” I finish, feeling as though I have successfully tap-danced across a social minefield. If my friends regard me as anything less than a lesbian after this conversation is done, I will be a credit to reserved girls everywhere. Before I can dig myself further into a hole, Mollie steps in and saves me, I do love her.
“Guys stop, like, grilling the birthday girl! She’s too busy focusing on becoming a marine biologist and getting into Brown to worry about guys! They’ll just slow you down, right Callie?” I shoot her a grateful look and nod in agreement, momentarily wondering when everyone started excessively using the word ‘like’.
“You guys wanna go down to the bleachers and, like, check out Daryl playing football?” Manda suggests and I could hit her, but I don’t. I am so uncomfortable in this kind of social situation. I know if I don’t go with them then I’m being rude because they’re throwing me a party, but if I do go with them then it’s not helping me to avoid Daryl’s puppy dog eyes. I feel awkward and wish I could run, but instead I rise and follow them to the pitch; Mollie grasps my hand and gives it a quick squeeze with a glance full of sympathy.
“Mine after school?” I ask feeling tired.
“Of course,” she smiles, her beetle black eyes glinting wildly. “Anything for the birthday girl.”
The afternoon passes slowly, too slowly, but it could be worse; I could be in double physics rather than double geography, and I could be spending tonight alone with my four-year-old sister instead of my best friend. Then it hits me as I sit drawing a graph of the GNP of European countries: Kayla. I promised I’d play with her tonight and I do not break my promises to her. Ever. I know what it is like to not believe anything grownups say to you as a child, it breeds trust issues as an adult. I recall the memories every year at our home in Tulsa; my mom would write me a birthday card which she signed ‘love mommy and daddy’. I see now that she did it for my own good, to make me feel normal, she told me that my daddy (who I had never met) signed it and sent it from his job across the country in San Diego. It wasn’t until I was eight that she stopped signing the cards and told me that he had died before I was born. She never told me how, and to be honest, I never wanted to know, but it truly damaged my relationship with her, that she could lie to me, even to protect me, about something so important. I sigh and bury that problem back in the past where it belongs and pull my phone out covertly under the graffiti covered desk, keeping my eyes on Mr. Brewer
, who is now helping Manda with her chart across the room. I quickly text:
‘U k 2 play T-party wiv Kayla 2nite for abit?’
Then select Mollie from my phone book and click send. I place the phone back into the pocket of my jeans and continue to shade in the GNP for Greece. I feel it vibrate against my thigh and I covertly track Mr. Brewer and his nasty comb over as he returns to his desk. Her reply reads,
‘yh sure! Such a cyootie!’
I smile feeling blessed I can call her my friend.
Geography finally over, phew, I exhale feeling the pressure of another school day fading into the past. As the final bell of the day sounds I start to get that Friday feeling where the weekend stretches before you, filling itself with possibilities.
I move through the crowd of teens and out to the parking lot where my red convertible stands in all its glory. Mollie is leaning against the hood talking to Daryl and I want to turn on my heel right there and run, not only for myself, but for Mollie. I want Daryl to stop crushing after me long enough to see her easy charm and Latino flare. To be with her and not long after someone like me who is just not interested. Why can’t he see it would be better for everyone? I force myself forward across the cracked tarmac. Daryl catches my gaze and I throw him a ‘skedaddle now or face my whining’ look, and he does. Mollie turns to me hugging her books to her chest.
“Why does he have to like you?” she whines at me and I place my arm round her shoulder.
“I know. It sucks, doesn’t it?” I ask in rhetoric, wishing I could remove myself from his testosterone-fuelled vision.
“We would make such a cute couple.” She sighs into the clammy air and I can almost picture her thought bubble, filled with an image of herself and Daryl, standing as plastic figurines on top of a multi-tiered and highly elaborate wedding cake.
“I know you would, sweetie. I wish I could make him see how amazing you are. He would be lucky to have you.” She nods in agreement and slides into the passenger seat of my car as I wedge myself into the driver’s seat. The white leather interior cuddles my back like only vintage can as I root through my bag for my keys, finding them attached to my ‘I heart San Diego’ key chain I place them into the ignition, put the gear shift in drive, and cruise smoothly out of the parking space. Mollie waves to Manda and Chloe as they get into Chloe’s silver SUV. They both place their fingers to their lips as though making a shushing sound and I know they’re warning her about spilling the beans on my party location. She nods back at them and I cruise out of the parking lot and onto the road. I put on the stereo and ‘Take it off’ by The Donnas comes on the radio. Mollie looks at me knowingly and I nod my head. I put on my indicator just in time to turn onto the route we love to indulge, the route that takes us by the heart of San Diego’s culture. The road that takes us to the sea.
I plunge the pedal to the metal and listen to the radio happily as my little red vintage lurches across the tarmac. I have taken a route Mollie and I take all the time, and one that always leaves us breathless. It bends round the side of a cliff, and to my right all I can see is uninterrupted beach for miles. Sometimes I love living in San Diego, purely because I am so close to such staggering natural beauty. I can’t imagine being pent up in a city away from the coast, surrounded by sky scrapers. I shudder at that claustrophobic imagining. I look down at the ocean; the countless life that teems beneath the surface is mind boggling. Part of what made me want to be a marine biologist in the first place is that the mystery of such depths scares me a tad. In knowing more about it, I can eliminate that fear. Mollie has put on her sunglasses and taken off her denim jacket and is smiling insanely. I laugh out loud as she pokes out her tongue, and then her hair is blown into her mouth as I turn a corner. Spitting it out, she smiles in a self-conscious fashion. I’m still chuckling when I hear it, and it startles me into silence … like a melody but so much more haunting than any I could imagine. I’ve heard it before, but I can’t place it. I fiddle with the dial of the radio and as the end of the song is interrupted with static, Mollie turns toward me questioningly.
“What are you doing? That was a great song!” she grumbles, looking confused.
“I thought I could hear something weird,” I mumble and she sits back into the leather again, the wind whipping her hair back off her tanned face which I’m sure she is grateful for after her recent hair debacle. She looks out to the sea and speaks absentmindedly.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asks me, eyes bright.
“Yeah I guess … I never really noticed before,” I explain, focusing on the road ahead, my hands slack on the white leather of the steering wheel. I wonder why I’ve never thought of the sea as beautiful. Could it be because I know too much about it, how it can devour and engulf. How it can turn from perfect calm to a tumultuous killer in mere moments? Maybe it was because my mom had always been too scared to let me swim like all the other kids and her fear had rubbed off on me. I decide to head home to La Mesa and by the time I pull up at my house with its multi-coloured roof tiles and offset windows I am feeling pretty beat. I get out of my car under the gorgeous San Diego sun and walk towards my last evening of being 17, Mollie in tow.
“Thanks for a great night, see you tomorrow!” I call. Turning on one foot, I close the front door of my house to the sight of Mollie’s mom pulling away in her black SUV, and Mollie waving frantically through the tinted window. It’s nine o’clock and I’m already shattered but rather than being able to creep back upstairs, I hear a call from the living room that stops me in my tracks.
“Callie can you come in here please?” It’s my mom calling from the front room. I pivot slowly waiting for the inevitable lecture I’ve been watching stew beneath the surface of propriety in my mom’s mind. As I enter the olive walled sitting room she and Carl are sitting together on the sofa and his hand wraps possessively around her shoulder, I shudder. They both turn their attention as I stand feeling like I’m at a tribunal.
“So about this party …” My mom begins but Carl takes over.
“I hope you realise that Patience and I are somewhat concerned about the nature of what goes on at parties for girls of your age. We want to make it clear to you that Mollie’s mother will report drugs, alcohol, or intimate relations of any kind with the opposite sex, to me. I want you to know Callie, that any funny business, of any kind, and you won’t see those friends of yours for spring break or summer, is that clear?” He stares down his fat nose while looking up; I can’t help but feel that he may seem a bit more intimidating if he was standing. I stew hating how he uses my mom’s name like he owns her and I’m about to retort when I realise inwardly that my friends really want this party to happen. As I begin to draw breath to let him have it, I pause for a moment, exhale the breath I’ve been holding deeply, and put on the fake smile I’ve been getting so good at before treading carefully and with the prowess of a linguistic ninja.
“I know you are only trying to protect me, Carl, and that’s why I’m so grateful that you’re …” I pause for a moment … which word should I use … an ass pain? An overbearing control freak? A mini household Nazi? “So concerned …” I continue. “I promise you that this is just going to be a quiet sleepover with three friends. There aren’t even going to be any males in the house! Unless you count Mollie’s dad!” I giggle innocently, sweetly even, and my mom’s eyes warm to mine as she looks from me to Carl.
“It sounds like you are going to have a good night.” She steers the conversation away from the stern for once, making my shoulders relax and causing my curly locks to bristle against my ears.
“It is nice that you are showing such maturity … finally.” Carl attempts a compliment and then fails dismally on the dismount. My mind wanders to images of him landing a vault, pancake style on his face. I smile at the thought and both mom and Carl turn their attention back to the television. It seems I am not interesting enough for actual conversation but purely as a target for critique.
I turn on my heel and walk quie
tly upstairs, inventing imaginative ways for Carl to fall on his face as a way to stop my temper kindling into a fully-fledged rage. As I muse that, once again, it is not worth getting angry over a situation I can’t change, I breathe out slowly. I finally reach the top of the landing and dive into the safety of my room, closing the door behind me with a soft click. I stand in the doorway a moment before breathing with relief. I lived through the questioning, and as for my ‘chaperone’, Mollie’s mom understands the home situation with Carl and totally has my back. I wish for a moment that I had Mollie’s life. Her family, mom and dad still in love, being the baby, she seems to have it pretty good. Plus, her parents actually trust her! They let her do pretty much whatever she wants; I mean Carl has a wheel clamp in the garage for God’s sake. Like I couldn’t catch the bus if I wanted to get some space from him anyway?
The Kiss That Killed Me (The Tidal Kiss Trilogy Book 1) Page 2